Sunday, January 11, 2009

168. HACKED

HACKED
I want a haircut like a prisoner - some political
anarchic beast stuffed into a corner and shackled,
let out only to glimpse the light but barely.
Hair hacked and chopped like a gruesome truth
on trial. To be judged by a look.
-
The slivered strand, obscure and cut all
at wrong angles, in bad clumps. The face -
to be framed - is hedged and defamed by
this singular matter of cut. Hair, like
a prisoner, destroyed in a fury.
-
You should ask why?
For this is the modern day, is
my conscious reply. A day stuffed
with the pretense of pretty and style
and modicums of comfort varied and wild.
Random. An erstwhile change of sea
at each new opportunity.
-
I want hair like a prisoner :
cut and chopped and wild and...free?

No comments: